


the frame of your body is the shell of a cathedral

by s0dafucker



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M, Rambly, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, even the author doesnt completely get the symbolism, i wanted to be safe, ish, jake is an angel??, prose, theres no real reason to rate it teen and up but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 21:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14120979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0dafucker/pseuds/s0dafucker
Summary: rich is a shrine in a forest, a tombstone, a god





	the frame of your body is the shell of a cathedral

tears are slipping down jake’s cheeks as his lips find rich’s, the silent feeling of moonlight in his chest. rich’s ribs are creaking, vines spilling out through the open sides of his tank top and curling around jake’s arms. they kiss for a few more minutes, or years, decades, however long it takes for the flowers winding around their bodies to harden into marble that holds them in place. 

jake’s tears glimmer like stars as they fall. he stares into rich’s eyes, swims in the forest that lives above the darkened skin that betrays scores of sleepless nights. his arms are a cemetary, jake thinks, tombstones made of ashes, the blossoms growing inside him gushing out to lay offerings at the rubble. rich’s hands trace up his back to find the remains of his wings, the rough pads of his fingers running lightly over the broken bones where something had once been.

rich smells like night air, like rain and leaves and a far-off campfire, his body like an alter built for a long-dead god, hands like candles and eyes like spells. deer skulls are lying at his feet, his ribs split open for the flowers to find their way out, his heart beating so softly it may not be beating at all; rosary beads are draped from its pulsing form to the stem of his lungs, lungs that are blue and forever contracting around the air jake breathes into his mouth.

the air that passes between them is indigo, green, gray, something denser than oxygen that swirls in jake’s lungs- it should be blue, is supposed to be blue, like his wings are supposed to unfurl around him in a burst of protection instead of crumble into sharp edges and incomplete limbs. 

the air in his lungs is supposed to be blue but rich breathes it anyway, inhales, holds their foreheads together and drowns jake in his forest eyes.

he tastes like home, but not the one jake is from, an amber that is not scotch and a white-gray that is marble instead of dented drywall, river water and starlight and the soft brush of their eyelashes together. he tells the forest that he understands; he, too, will have an open chest soon. his ribcage is filling with water as they speak, he whispers to the skulls at the foot of rich’s alter, listening to the beads hanging from his lungs clink together in the night wind. his voice doesn’t exist but he can hear it coming from the same place as the ghosts walking the boneyards of rich’s scars. the smell of smoke comes from somewhere far off in the woods but he feels the heat in rich’s hands- they roam over his back, fingers tracing his spine, shoulder blades, the bones holding the inside of him together. there are sigils carved into his skin that match the ones in the forest, geometric forms that are etched into bark and flesh with the same determination and steady hand- he is ready and willing to become a tombstone, the marble hardening around the parts of him that are so closely melded with rich they may as well be one. 

his head is bent in prayer, his lips parted to beg for forgiveness, his hands clasped around rich’s figure. the moon- is it the sun? the moon is shining through the trees in the forest- the moon casts a white-yellow-white halo around his hair and for a moment jake feels his wings unfold, exhales green-gray into the space between their lips. he offers himself at the altar and somehow rich accepts with open mouth and ready hands.

**Author's Note:**

> what the fuck is this???? who knows   
> i came up with a title and summary for once which is Cool  
> i wrote it in one sitting and didnt really revise but thats just how we roll at casa fucker aint it 
> 
> comment if u got anything on ur mind  
> doesnt even have to be abt the fic 
> 
> also in case u didnt notice or werent already keeping up w/ my shit i changed my user  
> im keeping my branding in check yall uwu gotta have that social media consistency


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